Life or Death (One-Shot)
by thegreatbee
Summary: Reyna, Praetor of Camp Jupiter, makes a massive mistake that takes the life of every Roman legionnaire in camp. Read as she struggles with the decision to live or die.


**Reyna POV**

Guns fired Celestial Bronze bullets over my head, demigods collapsing left and right as they clutched their chests or their stomachs. I was covered in different scraps of armour from different fallen demigods. I vomited each time as I recognized my fallen comrades, as I knew that soon, it would be me on the ground.

It was a routine attack on a small monster cave. My scouts had reported seeing only a Cyclops, and while they were tricky monsters, the entire demigod force of Rome could handle a single monster.

I did the stupid thing. I brought along students, young demigods, to watch on the best way to approach and destroy a Cyclops. After killing the beast, we were on our way out when an explosion rocked the building and warriors clad in black armour flooded into the building, toting Celestial Bronze and Imperial Gold bullets alongside their semi-automatic guns. It wasn't a battle. It was a massacre.

I had sent out a call to Camp as soon as I saw the mysterious warriors, and reinforcements came and went within a few minutes. There were merely too many soldiers who were armed too well. We didn't stand a chance, and as praetor, I knew that. It killed me to admit it, but I knew that.

Frank went down after about an hour of the carnage. He fought valiantly, and I took the time to send him into the Underworld even during the battle. I dragged his limp body out of the way, dodging gunfire, and wrenched his sword from his grasp as I threw up in the old warehouse. Never in my worst nightmares would I expect to be in this position. Hazel, pregnant with their first child, had stayed behind at camp. Frank had joked that he almost had to physically restrain her as he left, as she wanted to climb onto Arion and fight. Yet she was eight months pregnant, and the child was more important than anything.

I closed my eyes and leapt from behind my barrier, feeling bullets cut my clothes as I raced towards the warriors. My soldiers were dead. No, my friends were dead. I was the only one left. It would be barbaric to call them soldiers as they lay on the floor of the old warehouse, as they died for me, as they tossed me their family heirloom for me to protect as they passed, as they expected me to shut their eyes as they slipped from this world…

It was too much. Even if I did return home, which was highly unlikely, it would be too much. I would live every day remembering that one demigod who I had forgotten to send off properly, how his soul would forever haunt me whether he enjoyed it or not. That one student, merely eleven years old, who was the first to launch himself in front of me to take a bullet. That one girl, missing her front teeth still, her pigtails darkening with blood as she lay on the dusty wooden floor, the light draining from her eyes.

I gripped my sword, a long Imperial Gold thing, and prayed as I fought. I prayed to Jupiter, Juno, Pluto, Neptune, anyone really. I prayed to Bellona, who had always helped me in times of need. To Mars, who would give me the strength I needed to avenge my friends. To Minerva, to keep my head cool as I gave my life for Rome.

From a young age, I knew that I would die at the blade of the sword or the head of an axe in the heat of battle. There was no doubt that I would die for my Camp Jupiter, my home. Even at Circe's Island, I had been told not to expect a long lifespan. I was okay with that fact. No good soldier feared death.

The warriors were confused at first, not wanting to shoot in fear of hurting their comrade. I didn't hesitate, however, instead taking advantage of their pause and slashing down soldier upon soldier upon soldier.

They apparently weren't soldiers, though, because as I cut them down they turned to ash at my blade. My sword cut through them as if they were made of butter, and my limbs felt as if they were blazing with energy.

My mind cleared like a crystal, and everything was sharp again. I danced with my blade, silently slicing these creatures without a second thought. Ten of them for every one of mine. I felt no guilt or trouble as I ran my sword through a breastplate or as I kicked the kneecap of one man, who screamed, and decapitated him.

My blood sang with battle, and it was as if Bellona herself was next to me, telling me exactly what to do. My skin glowed with red, and I could feel Mars mowing down soldiers next to me. Minerva watched over my progress, giving me subtle instructions on the best plan to preserve my life.

No matter how much I wanted to die after this, I couldn't. I was a leader, not a quitter, and dying would be the easy way out. No, Reyna, Praetor of the Twelfth Legion, would not go down without a fight. I thought of Hazel and her swollen belly, how depressed she would be after finding out that her husband was dead and would never meet his son. I would be there for her. I would hold her as she wept and told her that life was such a magical thing, that she shouldn't take anything for granted. That some battles should not be fought, and merely dealt with. That Frank would show himself to her, in one way or another.

I stepped on the boots of my opponents, my heel going through them like water. They were nothing now, as I was certain that the gods around me were helping me get through this. They wanted me to survive, to thrive, to _live_.

Finally, it was done. It was over. Nothing would ever be the same, but it was over. I stood in the minefield of bodies in this decrepit place, and broke down. I sobbed like a part of me was missing, and it was. I may be whole in body, but no longer would I be whole in mind. Not really. I was still sane, of course, but that part of me that lay with my legion was gone. Empty. Dead.

I sank to my knees and looked through the jagged hole in the ceiling. Rain began to fall. How fitting, in this situation.

"Thank you," I whispered to the sky, raindrops running down my face. They mixed with my tears and washed the blood from my body. The skies cried for my fallen friends, the only family I ever knew. They cried for the life of my brothers and sisters, for the future of those at Camp Jupiter who lost everything they've ever known, starting today. And above all, they wept for me. For the poor soul who would forever be burdened with this horrific tragedy, who would sleep every night plagued with nightmares. For the woman who, every time she shut her eyes, would see the utter carnage in this cursed place.


End file.
